


"we must now ask you to be brave"

by WildKitte



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Oral Fixation, Suggestive Themes, Summer Camp, Watermelon Trope, look it's a thing, not like in a nasty way but like MOUTHS you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24437995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKitte/pseuds/WildKitte
Summary: This is not new – butthisisnew, this hunger, and thirst, and heat in his belly. The urge to reach out, and have ataste, and he should probably stop staring at Osamu, but his mouth looks so inviting and soft.*Summer, watermelons, and a romance.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 25
Kudos: 243
Collections: SunaOsa





	"we must now ask you to be brave"

**Author's Note:**

> Watermelon Trope: a trope i created in which eating a watermelon is essential prelude to kissing and pining idk mouths and watermelon are neat.
> 
> I have written SunaOsa once (1) before this, please be nice. This was a real quick self-indulgent thing so YEAH. Very lightly edited.  
> Thank you to San and Carole for help with characterization and Inarizaki expertise, and Ginny for suggesting watermelon trope for sunaosa!

Summer is many things.

Summer means training camps, and oppressing heat, and, almost every time, a broken AC. It is a law of nature – when the weather is at its worst and the heat unbearable, the AC gods look down upon mankind and say: “we must now ask you to be brave”, and then do that seven more times within three weeks.

Luckily, Kita-san is in charge of the catering.

Like a divine spirit he descended upon them and promised “watermelon break” with kind and understanding eyes in the middle of practice, and everyone sighed a deep, _deep_ sigh of relief as Kita-san and Aran made their way to the kitchen to prepare the perfect summer snack.

Everything with a mouth loves watermelon. Suna is no exception – he gingerly accepts a thick slice of watermelon from the plate Kita-san offers to him, and sits down next to Osamu on the grass, who is sweaty and has a blade of grass sticking to his thigh. On his lap are three slices, resting on one napkin – a perpetually hungry boy like him would never be satisfied with less. Atsumu is laying further away on the same grass, holding the thinnest slice of watermelon Suna has ever seen, almost see-through, whining injustice at an uncaring Aran who walks past him without the slightest glance.

“He’s dumb,” Osamu says, biting down to his first watermelon. “He didn’t pay attention to the cuts.”

“Premium cuts of Aran-senpai,” Suna muses, and takes a bite of his fruit.

It’s perfection. It’s divine. The juice bursts on his tongue like a spring of youth, the satisfying snap giving way to the mushy texture as he savours the watermelon in his mouth. It is truly the queen of all snacks, defined and refreshing, and Suna turns to Osamu to voice his observation.

Instead, his mouth goes dry at the sight.

It should be gross – Osamu stuffing his face with as much watermelon as he can fit (he’s on the second slice), but Suna can only pay attention to the dribble of juice running down Osamu’s chin. It creates a faint pink line as it goes, and then at his chin, it swells and drops to Osamu’s lap.

He wants to lick it – travel the pink path and feel the sweetness on his tongue against the saltiness of Osamu’s skin, and the thought startles him to his very core.

Panicking, Suna averts his gaze but to no avail – his eyes wander instead to Osamu’s fingers, drenched with the pink liquid. He wants to suck them clean; watch Osamu in the eye as he does, feel the callouses of his fingers under his tongue, worship his hands with his touch.

His breath hitches as Osamu does it for him – his mouth is finally empty and he takes a finger in his mouth, sucking it clean, and then another. His lips are damp and pink from the fruit, juice still dripping over – he’s such a messy eater and Suna wants to taste him, switch the taste of lingering watermelon to the sensation of Osamu’s mouth on his.

This is not new – but _this_ is _new_ , this hunger, and thirst, and heat in his belly. The urge to reach out, and have a _taste_ , and he should probably stop staring at Osamu, but his mouth looks so inviting and soft.

Osamu slowly turns to look at him, pulling his thumb out of his mouth with a faint _pop_.

“What?” he asks, licking his lips, and Suna’s brain short-circuits at the sight, or the heat, he can’t quite tell.

“Uh,” he tries, but gets cut off by Kita-san’s voice:

“The break is over – back to the gym, practice continues in five!”

There is a chorus of groans from the team, but Ginjima ushers them towards the gym, dragging a struggling Atsumu throwing a tantrum at him, so used to Atsumu’s bullshit that it doesn’t faze him anymore.

But instead of moving, Osamu just keeps staring at him, not moving a muscle, and Suna can feel confrontation coming like the whistle and rattle of an oncoming train. Osamu’s lips are still damp, and there is something stuck in Suna’s throat ( _maybe it’s a watermelon seed_ , his stupid brain offers _. And it will grow into a fruit if you kiss him_ , says even stupider brain).

Suna quips a quick “we’ll be there soon” to Aran, and then he just.

Sits there.

And Osamu sits with him.

“What?” Osamu repeats, cocking his head, and Suna’s heart slams in his throat. He can feel the sun burning the back of his neck, and the AC is probably still broken, and he can’t move because his heartbeat is running like a small hamster in a wheel. Osamu is always handsome, and sometimes he’s even cute, but he’s never been _irresistible_ like this – usually Suna can hold his hands back and keep his urges in check, but the goddamn stain still on Osamu’s chin is driving him mad.

He clears his throat and manages to frown.

“You’re a messy eater,” he says and then lifts up his hand, slightly trembling, and wipes the watermelon juice off Osamu’s chin.

Keeping eye contact, he gives in to the urge, and licks the juice off his thumb.

Osamu’s eyes widen, and he says: “Oh, wow.”

And then he pulls Suna into a kiss.

 _Oh fuck_ , is all Suna gets to think before he slides his fingers in Osamu’s hair, and Osamu’s sticky fingers frame his face with the kind of urgency that matches Suna’s frantic heartbeat. Osamu is warm to the touch, but his lips are a little cool from the watermelon, and a little sticky and sugary too, and Suna’s heart spins as he squeezes his eyes shut in the forceful kiss, the tease of Osamu’s teeth, the slightest promise of tongue.

Osamu pulls back with a smack, still holding Suna’s face, and Suna opens his eyes to Osamu staring at him, a little breathless and a little fond.

Suna clears his throat again, feeling a little faint.

“We probably need to talk about this,” Suna says.

“Okay,” Osamu says and kisses him again. Suna’s head feels light and a little dizzy, but Osamu’s lips are soft against his, and he just leans into it because what else is he supposed to do in Osamu’s loose embrace.

 _Oh_ , he thinks then.

It does taste like watermelon.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> twitter [@wildkitte](https://twitter.com/wildkitte)  
> tumblr [@wildkitte](http://wildkitte.tumblr.com/)


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